


Old Friends

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Drama/Romance, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 05:58:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/794663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a hard case, Jim and Simon draw comfort from their old friendship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Old Friends

 

Warning: Jim/Simon. Just because it had to be done.... Oh, and it hasn't  
been beta-read.  
Date: 2/26/97.  
Disclaimer: These characters belong to Pet Fly and UPN; I'm making no  
profit, and do not intend to besmirch anyone's reputation with my flight  
of fancy.

## Old Friends

by Ann Teitelbaum  


Jim crossed through the squad room and into Simon's office, looking every bit as exhausted as he felt. It had been a long, long stakeout and then the inevitable joy of getting at least the minimal paperwork done. Now, all he wanted was to collapse and sleep. If he'd thought he could sleep without dreaming, he'd lie down right here, in Simon's office, on the sofa. 

"Here you go, Cap," he mumbled as he dropped the folders onto the corner of the desk. 

Simon looked up, and then leaned back in his chair. "Jim, you look like you're gonna collapse! You _are_ going home now, aren't you?" 

"Yeah, I'm going home," he agreed listlessly. "For all the good it's going to do," he couldn't help adding. 

"What do you mean?" 

Jim found himself flopping down on the sofa, leaning his head back. "Nothing. I just know how this always goes, and I'm not going to be able to sleep with the image of that girl still in my head." 

The drug smugglers had been using young runaways to transport drugs by swallowing small pouches of the stuff and then going through customs. Unfortunately, one of the risks these desperate kids had to take was the potential of a pouch tearing on the way through their system and killing them. That was something the smugglers never explained and Jim would never forget -- a sixteen year old girl convulsing in an alleyway, and Jim standing there not able to do a damn thing. 

He looked up to see Simon standing over him with his coat on and a hand outstretched. 

"C'mon, Jim, I said I'll drive you home."   
  


* * *

  


"So, where's Sandburg," the bigger man asked as Jim flipped on the lights in the loft. 

"They're in the middle of some grant deadline, so he said he'd be staying on campus for a couple days while they scramble to get the paperwork in." He stood, looking blankly out the big windows, until Simon put a hand on his shoulder. 

"You're _not_ staying here alone, Jim," Simon told him. 

"Thanks," Jim whispered, aware that he was beginning to crack, but not quite able to stop himself. He allowed himself to be pulled into a rough hug, and as he pushed his face into Simon's shoulder, he felt tears fall across his cheeks. 

They stood for long minutes as Jim labored to get his breathing back under control, to stop the occasional gasps that sounded almost like sobs. He felt a soft press against the back of his head and held on tighter, so glad that Simon was here. 

He felt large hands pull his face around to meet warm, understanding eyes. He pulled in a shaky breath and leaned forward just enough to meet those lips as they came close. He let his eyes fall shut as the kiss deepened, and they both shifted, legs brushing, groins settling closer, rubbing just a bit. 

The parted with a gasp, and Simon used his thumbs to brush the wetness from Jim's cheeks. "C'mon, Jim; let's get to bed."   
  


* * *

  


Jim needed this, and Simon knew it. The guy had always been way too emotionally involved, and now, between the heightened senses and that Sandburg kid, it was like he couldn't ever take a break from being the one in control. And Simon knew better than most that a man could _never_ be in control _all_ the time. It was something Jim had helped him learn. 

Pushing the pale man back on the bed, he undressed, knowing that he was being watched, and admired. Now nude, he climbed on top of his lover, straddling his thighs. He began to work on the other man's clothes, part of him reveling in the submission, part of him concerned by the distanced look in those eyes. Time to get him grounded in the here and now, and away from that damned alleyway. 

He pinched Jim's nipple, hard, and that got a moan of protest. "You have an objection to something?" 

"No, sir," came the whisper. 

"You think you can sleep without this?" 

"No, sir." 

"Then you'd better pay some attention, huh?" 

"Yes, sir." Hands were brushing against Simon's legs, just touching, making sure. 

Simon finished stripping the man, both moving to get the offending items off. Resettling, Simon took the other man's hands and placed them on his pecs, not saying a word. 

Jim worked the broad chest in front of him, rubbing, caressing, occasionally rolling hardened nipples between his thumb and fingers. He leaned up as best he could and took one nipple into his mouth, sucking hard. A strong hand cupped his head, holding him there, and he began using his teeth as well, lightly chewing, sucking, hands now wrapped around the bigger body. Yeah, he needed this.... 

He felt the cock hardening against his belly, felt his own cock beginning to harden as well. He moved across to the other tit and began working on it, the hand on the back of his head shifting to support him. God, he needed that support. 

Damn! He felt himself tearing up again, and fought it, moving a hand to wrap around Simon's hard cock. He pumped strongly, knuckles brushing both their bellies as he did. Simon's hand was gripping the base of his neck now, the bigger man rocking into his grip, thrusting. Jim just kept on suckling, feeling for the moment when.... 

Simon let him go, and Jim fell back, his hand stilling. Both men panted for a long moment, Jim looking up, waiting for the other to meet his gaze. 

"Get yourself something," he ordered, allowing Jim to roll to one side to open the bedside table drawer. Out came condoms and a tube of lubricant. "Cover me," Simon ordered, watching trembling hands open the condom and roll it down his shaft. 

Moving to sit back against the cold bars at the head of the bed, Simon watched the younger man squeeze clear jelly onto his fingers and move down to spread it between his legs. He watched that body roll over and kneel, and he let him kneel there for another long moment. 

Reaching out to grab the usually-proud chin, Simon pulled his lover close, Jim crawling to obey. Simon looked him in the eye, looking for clues. He saw hunger, saw a hint of desperation, saw submission, pleading. He saw trust, not fear. 

Unable to resist, he gave the man a rough kiss, them pushed him back into position, clambering to kneel behind that ready, waiting butt. 

He pushed two fingers in, hearing the small moan, knowing from experience that it wasn't a moan of pain, not real pain. He twisted his hand, loosening, then pulled out and used three fingers. No sound at all this time. He worked another moment, then pulled out. 

Positioning his cockhead at the entrance, he asked roughly, "What do you want?" 

The man before him was crouched, weight on his elbows, head down on the bed. "I want you to fuck me," came the low voice. 

"You want what?" he demanded. 

"I want you to fuck me," louder this time. 

"You wanna get fucked," he repeated, liking this teasing build-up. 

"Ple-ease," came the truly needy-sounding voice. 

Simon sent a hand to Jim's cock, feeling it now fully hard, and glad of it. He pumped it once, feeling Jim's involuntary thrust forward, then back to regain the contact with his cock. "You think you're ready?" 

"Yes, sir," came the slightly-winded reply. 

"You think you _deserve_ this," he challenged. 

There was a pause. "Please, sir." 

"I asked if you think you _deserve_ this," he repeated. 

Jim's head fell forward again, to rest on the bed. "I don't know," he moaned. 

Simon waited a beat, then said, "Well, I _do_ know. You _do_ deserve to get fucked, and I'm the one who's gonna do it. And you know why?" 

No answer. 

"Because you can_not_ help what happens, and you can_not_ prevent everything. Do you hear me?" 

A nod, but no sound. 

Simon slapped Jim's ass once. "Do you _hear_ me?" 

"Yes, sir." 

"What the hell did I just say?" He slid his cockhead inside Jim, hearing the man's gasp. He held still, waiting. 

"You... you said I deserve it." When there was no movement, he tried again. "You said it... wasn't my fault." 

"That's right. You _know_ I'm right, don't you?" 

A long pause, then, "Yes, sir." 

"So. Do you wanna get fucked?" 

"Please, sir, yes, please." That head and shoulders were up again, back arching, trying to press back against the invasion. Simon's hands prevented any movement. 

"Okay, then. You got it." And it began. Simon slid further in, hearing the noises, judging them as pleasure, not pain. He stopped when he was all the way in, closing his eyes against the feeling, savoring it. Oh yeah. With a deep breath, he pulled out a ways, then slammed back in, sending Jim's hands to grip the bars at the bed head. Braced, they began, smooth, strong, steady thrusts, Simon's hands firm on Jim's hips, feeling the tightness, the heat, the rhythm. 

Both men were moaning, pent-up need growing, heating up, pressing outward. Simon felt himself there, and pushed hard one last time, hands fighting the other man's motions as he kept those hips close, jerking as he came. 

He heard the quiet noises, felt the muscles gripping him. Reaching clumsily around, he grabbed Jim's cock and began pumping it, knowing the other man needed this too. He laid his chest over the smaller man's back, one hand on the bed to support his weight. Talking low, he began to urge him on, knowing the gutter-talk would feed that lust. Pumping hard, his low voice in one ear, and he felt the man's whole body tense, felt him shudder, felt the cock throb in his grasp as he came with a cry. 

Simon held still, then moved his hand to stroke Jim's chest and belly soothingly, feeling the warm wetness and feeling it on his hand as he caressed hot skin. They both shifted after a moment, separating only long enough for Simon to lie down and Jim to wrap himself around him, head on the strong shoulder. 

They lay in silence, each man slowly stroking skin on the other, until the quiet voice offered, "Thanks, Simon. I really needed you." 

"Hey, man, I know. That's what bein' a friend is about, remember?" He planted a kiss on the short-cropped hair. "And don't worry; I'll call you on it when _I_ need _you_. Deal?" 

"Deal." And they sealed it with a kiss.   
  


* * *

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